Intermezzo in London (Moving On, Part 3)
by GildaMulberry
Summary: Sequel to "Going Home" and "A New Life". - Can be read independently, but there are references to those stories, so it's easier if you have read those as well. Set after Series 4, ep. 4. - Details of TV series might be altered, this is AU :-) Rated M for a few more explicit scenes in the course of the story. Camille spends a couple of days in London before starting her new job.
1. Coming Home

As she approached the house that would be her home here in London from now on, Camille felt her heart beating faster with excitement. She was looking forward to seeing Margaret and Robert and spending the evening with them – and Richard, of course! – would be fun. Richard had explained that they had come to London after he had informed them that she'd come to stay for a few days – they wanted to celebrate her arrival in Europe…

Apparently, the Commissioner had been in close contact with the department in France, and once Humphrey had let him know that he had indeed decided to let her go, Selwyn Patterson had spoken to someone in the French HR department who had then made all necessary arrangements for Camille's flight and the connections. With the time difference between the Caribbean and Europe, that had been a bit challenging, but it had all worked out fine, and Richard had been informed by the French as well. Potter and he had discussed the matter as soon as they had heard from Leblanc that Camille was interested, and Richard's superior had agreed that it would be a good idea to bring her to London rightaway so she could get to know the other members of the British team.

Richard had talked to Leblanc again who had given him the number of the officer in charge of travel arrangements for the French members of the team – a very nice young lady with a quick grasp and a lovely accent. She had made all the necessary phone calls and online procedures, and so the ball had started rolling. Poor Michael Shaw had been ordered to take the car and pick up Camille at the airport at 7 – so he had had a rather short night – after all, it took a while to get to Heathrow from the North of London…

So far, the day had gone very well for her, Camille mused. She hadn't had any clue about what this trip to London would be about when she had found the ticket in her travel documents, but well… she certainly didn't complain about how things had developed.

As she climbed the steps to the entrance of the house, the door opened, and Margaret stood there with open arms, welcoming her. Robert was lingering in the hallway behind her, trying to hide his emotions behind a serious face, but even he couldn't help but smile broadly when Camille threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on both cheeks. Margaret watched them with a smile – it was amazing how Camille had gained her husband's affection and respect. Most people were put off by his formal behaviour… but then again, Camille had also torn down Richard's fences, so it wasn't such a surprise that Robert's stiff attitude couldn't frighten her.

Shortly afterwards, Camille and Margaret rummaged around in the kitchen together as if they had never done anything else, and Robert watched them with an amused smile on his face. Camille fixed herself some coffee (she wrinkled her nose when she saw the instant coffee, but Richard knew she was particular with coffee and most likely wanted her to choose her own favourite instead of buying the wrong brand), and Margaret brewed a pot of tea. There also was cake, and soon enough, the three of them had made themselves comfortable in the living room. The windows were open, a wonderful bouquet of summer flowers was on the table, and Camille let out a deep sigh as she kicked off her shoes and sat down on the sofa, the plate with cake on her knees.

"So, tell us… how did that all happen all of a sudden?" Margaret asked, and Camille began to give them a rundown on the events of the last few months. Richard's parents had known that she had wanted to move to Europe eventually – only two weeks after her return to Saint Marie, Camille had said so in an e-mail to Margaret. Neither she nor Richard had said much about their relationship, but it was clear as crystal to his parents that the two of them wanted to be together, and since Richard could not go back to the Caribbean, there was only one option for Camille: finding a job in France or the UK and moving away from the island.

Margaret was worried for Catherine and asked Camille how she felt about the situation. She didn't know Camille's mother very well - she had only met her once when she had come over to Saint Marie to take care of Richard and gather his belongings – but she knew that Catherine and Camille were rather close, and she remembered only too well how concerned she had been when Richard had moved to Saint Marie – so she was sure that Catherine would find it difficult to see Camille move to the other side of the world.

But Camille said that her mother understood that she needed to go her own way, and she was grateful for Catherine's philosophical attitude. "You know, once it had sunk in that I was really serious about Richard, she has always been very supportive," she explained. "I think that she had known all the time that I loved him, even before I knew it myself. When he got stabbed, I was completely devastated, and I was so traumatised for a while that I just functioned like a robot, if you know what I mean. When it became clear that Richard would survive, I was over the moon, and you know that I went to the hospital whenever I could - and Maman never said a word about it. I know that she wasn't so impressed with him at first… well, and to be honest, I wasn't, either… he just was so different from anybody else I had ever met, and he was so set in his ways… and there were other things -, but she knew that he's kind and caring, although he tried to hide it, and I guess she realised that she couldn't stop me, anyway…"

She took a bite of her cake and added "I think Maman is happy for me that I have the chance to spread my wings now. I mean, let's be honest, I was stuck on Saint Marie, from a professional point of view, and being there while Richard is here… that's just pointless and a complete waste of time. So, why would I stay?"

Robert cleared his throat and asked "So, what's that new job about, then?" Camille explained and gave him the details that she knew from what Richard had told her. She also mentioned that her headquarter would be in Paris, so while she would spend a considerable amount of time in London, she and Richard would live in both places because he'd also have to go to meetings in France. According to him, she was supposed to meet his superior on the next day, plus a few of the British team members, she'd get briefed about what her tasks in the team would be, which subjects she was supposed to focus on, she'd be given readers and guidelines and what-not, and they'd have to discuss a concept for the courses.

"On Sunday, I will fly over to Paris, and I'll see my boss there on Monday morning. I expect to see the head of the department there as well, and the first week will be spent on meetings and so on… They have booked me into a hotel for the first night, and after that, I'll stay in an interim flat for a while. I guess I will see what's available on the market… and when Richard comes over some time, we will make the round and look at the places I've found… it will really just be a small flat because I want to spend most of my free time over here," she looked around appreciatevely, "but I want it to be more than just one room, a tiny bathroom and a kitchen…"

They discussed the topic for a while, and then Camille asked them about their plans for the summer. Margaret had mentioned they were considering travelling to Italy in August or September, and she was curious to hear what had come out of those plans.

They were still chatting away when Camille suddenly pricked up her ears – there was the almost inaudible noise of a key turning in the lock. She jumped up to hurry to the entrance hall where Richard had just dumped a box of strawberries on the sideboard and dropped his briefcase - and fell into his open arms. His parents watched from the sitting room how the two of them stood in the hall, locked together and completely oblivious to their surroundings. Robert smiled and took his wife's hand. It was good to see Richard so happy. Margaret returned the squeeze of his fingers – she thanked her intuition that had made her trust in Camille and let her become a part of their life. She was so warm, vivacious and lively – like a ray of sunshine. And she really, truly loved Richard – that was more than obvious.

Margaret and Robert had plenty of opportunities to observe the communication between their son and his girlfriend over the remainder of the evening. They went out for an early dinner – Richard had reserved a table in a nearby restaurant. It wasn't a posh place, but the food was delicious – he had been there before with Camille when she had stayed with him after Christmas.

It was funny to observe how Richard started a sentence, and Camille finished it for him, and Margaret had to smile to herself when she heard Camille making a few pointed remarks to her son about how unadventurous and predictable his choice of food was. By the same token, Richard's pursed lips at her excitement about the different things she had on her plate spoke volumes. She made comments about some things being different from French (or Caribbean) food, and he said sarcastically "Well, Camille, this is England – you obviously get decent food here that doesn't burn your oesophagus," and she stuck out her tongue as a reply. Robert was a little shocked when he saw that – were they already arguing? -, but then he saw the twinkle in Richard's eyes and Camille's hand reaching over to caress his cheek.

Much to his surprise, his son was not embarrassed by this – in fact, he beamed at his girlfriend. But it wasn't the moonstruck grin Robert had seen on the faces of so many men who had fallen for a naïve or silly woman who was beautiful, but brainless. Camille's and Richard's relationship was based on a deep mutual understanding for each other, there was respect, along with tenderness, and the fact that they had never given up over the past year and a half, although circumstances had been tough for them, indicated that they were very, very serious about one another.

After dinner – it wasn't even 9 p.m. yet - Robert and Margaret returned to the house with them and said goodbye – they didn't want to come inside with them as they didn't want to be home too late. They invited the young couple to visit them on Saturday so they could take Camille to the airport together on Sunday – it was a little easier to get to Heathrow from their home than from North London. His father asked why they had booked Camille from Heathrow, anyway, when other airports were closer to North London. Richard said that it hadn't been possible to book a flight from London City for her trip to Paris this time, but for future trips, that would be their first choice – or they'd take the train. In any event, they promised to come over on Saturday, and with that, the Pooles went to pick up their car that was parked a little further down the road, and Richard and Camille went inside together.

He watched her as she got rid of her shoes and put her jacket on a hanger, wondering if she was up to champagne and dessert (the fresh strawberries had been put into the fridge before they had left for dinner) – and to what might come after dessert. After all, it had been a long day for her. He didn't want to appear greedy, after all… but well, it had been six months. He decided to play it safe and leave it up to her – so he went to close the curtains in the sitting room and hoped she'd give him a sign.

Camille noticed his glance, and she was well aware of what it was about… Although she had only had a few hours of sleep after her arrival in Heathrow, she wasn't overly tired yet. She was still on a high – the past few days had brought so much excitement, she couldn't possibly slow down now. And she knew that although Richard didn't make any obvious move to her or touch her suggestively, he was longing for more than chaste kisses at this point. She also knew that he would be too much of a gentleman to approach her when he'd have to assume that she was tired.

And, what was more, she wanted him, too.

So, when he turned around again, he found her standing right in front of him in the semi-darkness, a seductive little smile curved her lips, her hands slid under his jacket, stroking him lightly, and she whispered "Would you mind staying here, or does your sense of propriety dictate that we go upstairs?"


	2. Pillow Talk

It was past eleven when they finally made it into bed. Richard hadn't had any objections to staying in the sitting room – it had been easier that way, and the fluffy carpet had been more than good enough for them. Later, they had curled up on the sofa together with a blanket, but although it had been snug and intimate, and he had been happy to feel Camille cuddled up to him, it had become a little uncomfortable with time…

So they decided to change the venue and went upstairs.

Camille was in bed only a few minutes later. Richard put the strawberries in a bowl, carried it upstairs, along with the champagne and two glasses, and Camille's eyes widened when she saw him coming in, juggling the bottle, the bowl and the glasses. He smiled at her and said "We don't want this to go to waste, do we?" With that, he put down the bowl on the nightstand, poured the champagne into the glasses and then dimmed the light before joining Camille.

So, they had a little feast, and as she watched him sipping his champagne and eating a strawberry with obvious relish, Camille couldn't help but giggle when she remembered how uptight and stuffy Richard had been when he had greeted her in his office earlier that day. "What's so funny?" he asked. She explained, and he said remorsefully "Oh, I had to, you know… couldn't do anything else with Shaw being present, and then I was nervous, too."

Before she could ask any more questions, he explained "I mean, I didn't know how you would react. After all, I had acted behind your back, and I wasn't sure what you would think about that. I'm glad that you don't hate me for contacting the French… I know that you wouldn't have needed my intervention, but it has perhaps helped to speed up things a little. Sooner or later, something would have come along, anyway, I know, but I so wanted you to be closer, so I felt I had to do something…"

She nodded and put her hand on his arm as she said appreciatevely "I'm glad you went ahead. You did the right thing, so don't worry. Although I wasn't so sure for a few days if I was really qualified – I mean, they mostly approached me because of my undercover experience in the first place, and after I had agreed to apply and was offered the position, I suddenly got doubts. My last undercover mission didn't end so well…" She gave a half-suppressed laugh.

He had the decency to blush and then began to defend himself by saying that if he had been informed by the Commissioner back then that she'd been on a mission, he wouldn't have blown her cover… but she only laughed out loud and said "Take it easy, Richard. I don't hold it against you any more. It's history. And after all, it all worked out well, although I didn't see it that way for a while. But once I got over my grudge, working with you was a very valuable experience, and I learnt so much from you. I can tell you now – you drove me nuts, and I found you infuriating, impossible, and pedantic, but once I had realised that you weren't annoying anyone on purpose, all was good! It was so much fun to work with you…"

"Was it?" He knew it was pathetic, but he wanted to hear more. She smiled and fed him another strawberry. "It was..." Then, thoughtfully, "Didn't you notice? I mean, you may have been the most annoying man on the island, but you also were the smartest one, so why didn't you ever make a move? Did I scare you so much?"

Richard raised his eyebrows. "In one word? Yes. You scared me out of my wits… and you made me look stupid. And I just didn't know how you did it. I mean, you are disorganised, impulsive and cheeky – ouch!" – at that point, she gave him a punch, but he continued "… and I couldn't understand why I would feel inferior to someone with dubious qualities like that… who threatened to take me in a fistfight, on top of everything else… It took me a while to understand that you also are compassionate, smart and thoughtful. And of course, you're very pretty. And smart and pretty women never looked my way, so… But when I left for England – when we had solved the Powell case – I felt that you didn't really want me to leave. And although going back to the UK was like a dream come true, I wasn't so happy about it any more when I finally had the chance to do so. I missed you during that week, and I was confused. Then you threw that welcome party for me when I came back, and I felt that things were shifting, but well, you know me… reading people is not my strong side, so I was afraid I might misinterpret your friendliness… As far as I'm concerned, I knew then that I was very much in love with you, but well…"

"And you hid it," Camille said sadly. "You hid it when I was waiting for a sign from you. I mean, I had a faint idea and a little hope, but… I have never told you, have I, how I sat on the steps of your shack and cried when your plane left…" He looked at her incredulously, his eyes wide. "You did? Good Lord. If only I had known. But then again, maybe it would have scared me even more. I don't know. I hate to say it, but I really don't know…"

He looked at her, remorse and regret in his eyes. "And I have never apologised for not responding to your cards, have I?" She shook her head. "You haven't. But I think I know why you didn't write or e-mail. Let me give a guess… you didn't know what to say?"

He nodded. "And I felt… weak. Invalid. There was nothing I could offer you. I mean, I had no idea what the future would bring, whether or not I'd recover, how my job situation would develop… how could I write to you? How could I tell you I missed you when all I had was my misery, my poor health and my worries? Why would you want to hear from me?" "Because you're a friend?" she suggested softly. "That is, if you hadn't understood by then that – while I do a lot for my friends – I wouldn't have spent most of my spare time in the hospital on Saint Marie, travelled to Guadeloupe twice a week to see you there, and e-mailed with your mother on an almost daily basis so I would not miss any little bit of progress you'd make…" She looked at him, a hint of sarcasm in her eyes. "I think we both agree that I wouldn't have done all this if you hadn't been more than 'just a friend' to me…"

Richard was embarrassed. But then her gaze softened, and she continued "I know you didn't know all that. And while I was hurt at first that I didn't hear from you, your mother kept me updated, and she also told me about the struggles and difficulties you had to face, the lack of progress and everything else. If it hadn't been for her, I don't know what would have happened, but she kept me informed, and she said that she knew you missed me. That kept me going… and when she asked if I could stay for a few days when I had to travel to Manchester, I knew I was going to see you… and that would perhaps change everything – and it did… "

"I'm glad that you came," he said. "Once you were there, it was much easier, and by then I had understood that I was even more miserable without you… Still, it was difficult enough. You know, you were there, as beautiful as ever, and I… I wasn't much of anything. But you can't imagine how much I had wanted to see you again. I just didn't know how to do it…" He looked up and gave her a crooked smile. "We must remember to get a bow and an arrow for my mum some time, and maybe a set of feathered wings" he said. "I've never thought of her as the personification of Cupid, but obviously she's just that!"

He shifted to get a little more comfortable and pulled Camille towards him. "Thank you," he whispered, "for not holding it against me that I was such an idiot…" He felt her giggling in his arms, and as her hand stroked him softly, she said mischeviously "I guess I'm used to you being just that, Richard… but really, I love it!"

Then, after a few minutes of silence, she asked all of a sudden: "Tell me, what is Potter like?" "My boss? Hmmm…" "Is he like you? I mean, nobody could be like you, of course, but well… is he…" "English? Yes, Camille, he is… of course!" "Oh, be serious, please! I mean, I want to be prepared… Will you be present during the meeting as well?"

Richard frowned, thinking about how to describe Potter. Finally, he said "He's in his early 50s, I'd say. Tall and lean. From what I've heard, he's into long distance running. A bit obsessed with healthy lifestyle altogether. Oatmeal and dried fruits and all that, you know. Shrewd. Observant. Not into flattery and that sort of thing, but good with people – he's not the kind of person who will butter up people, but he knows how to make them feel appreciated without being slimy." "You like him," said Camille. He nodded "Yes, I do. He's clear about what he wants and why he wants you to do something. Won't trick you into something like – er – the Commissioner does."

Camille propped up on her elbow and laughed. "You still haven't forgiven him?" she asked. Richard raised his eyebrows and said "Ah no, Camille… I have forgiven him, but I haven't forgotten how he made me stay on Saint Marie in the first place. That was sneaky. But it's history, and if you look at it from a different angle, he has actually done me a favour because I wouldn't have got to know you if he hadn't made me stay…. Plus I actually enjoyed the work there! And he cooperated very well when it came to your transfer. But in any event, back to Potter… yes, he's a good boss. A bit too 'generous' with details sometimes – I mean, he sometimes glosses over things to make them look better. But well, you might have to do that in his position…"

"Does he know about us?" Camille asked. "Erm… you mean if I told him that you and I…? No, all he knows is that we worked together on Saint Marie. He has read your file – and the Commissioner also recommended you warmly in the letter I had asked him to send. I said you're the best partner I ever had – which is true – and that you're more than qualified to teach. Mentioned that you're bilingual. That's a big plus in his book. Also said you've got a knack with people." "What did he say?" Camille was curious.

Richard laughed. "He actually said that you've got to have a knack with people if you were able to work with me." She was a little shocked and said "Now, that doesn't sound very nice! Although he's got a point! Does he wear a suit and brogues all the time?" Richard grinned. "Why do you want to know that? But yes, he does. And in winter, he wears a jumper or a waistcoat as well! Oh, and you might want to steal a glance at his socks when you see him tomorrow…" She looked at him inquiringly. Now, what could be so remarkable about socks? She wanted to know more, but he refused to tell her. "Just wait and see," he sniggered.

She gave up and began to ask him about Shaw. "What does he do in the department? Is he your assistant?" Richard wrinkled his nose and said "Yes, he is, but don't tell him… No, seriously, he's one in a group of four sergeants in the department, and he does all sorts of administrative stuff. He seems shy at first, but in fact he's really quick-witted, and he can be quite funny. He's basically – er – a decent guy, if you know what I mean… authentic, honest and polite. You don't find that very often these days… He's pretty good at what he does, and he's got an incredible network – it seems he knows everybody and their sister, all over the place. That's an unbelievable advantage as he knows whom to ask when you need something extra. When I got that office, I wasn't happy with the visitor chairs they had given me – they were ugly and smelly, and I suspect they had taken them out of some mouldy cubbyhole where they had been sitting for ages. I didn't want to have anything unhygienic like that in my office! Shaw was on the telephone within minutes, and on the very next day, I had the furniture that you saw today. In jest, I like to call him my adjutant, if you know what I mean."

Reflectively, he added "He's a bit like Dwayne in regard to the networking aspect, but altogether not quite as laissez-faire as Dwayne… fortunately! You'll have to deal with him every once in a while when it comes to time tables for courses and all that – he does all the petty work. He never complains, mind you… and he's always friendly."

Camille nodded and said "He was very nice to me, that's right." Richard said drily "That does not surprise me. I saw the look on his face when he came into my office with you today – he's clearly smitten with you. I'm afraid you have another admirer already…"

She grinned. "And does it disturb you?" she asked cheekily. "Not seriously," he said, feigning disdain. "He's far too young for you, and he doesn't have much more hair than I do, so I don't think he's a threat."

With that, he pulled her closer again and said softly "And now, my love, let's finally go to sleep. You'll be busy tomorrow – after the meeting with Potter at 10 you'll meet a few people of the British team, I suppose we'll have a lunch break with all of them, and we'll have to discuss the tentative plan on what courses you'll teach, you'll get a list of workshops you might be interested in, and there'll be administrative stuff to handle, like getting a guest chip card, an ID and all sorts of other things. The alarm will go off at 6, and I'll get up then as I'll have to go into work straight away. You can take a little more time, but you can't really dawdle too much, so…"

Camille snuggled up to him and smiled as he switched off the light. Tomorrow would be an interesting day…


	3. First Impressions

It was hard for Richard to get up on the next morning. He would have loved to stay in bed with Camille, but there was no way around it – he'd have to drag himself out into the shower and get ready for work. She grunted faintly when the alarm clock went off and turned around sleepily, hiding her head under the blanket.

He grinned – he could understand her only too well. The jetlag would be vicious today, but they'd just go to bed earlier tonight, and then she'd get into a rhythm, little by little. It was good that she had a few days in the UK before having to go over to France and starting her new job there. And of course, he was happy to have her staying with him. He had missed her so much, and it hadn't been clear until the very last minute whether or not things would work out. He would have to ask her later on about how her farewell from Saint Marie had gone.

He had deliberately not asked her last night because he hadn't wanted to make her feel homesick. He knew that leaving the Caribbean was a major step for her, and no matter how strong their love was, he was well aware of the sacrifice she had made for him… Of course, she had wanted to climb the ladder and do more interesting things than being a DS in the Saint Marie Police Force, but she would have had other professional options in the archipelago so that she could have stayed in the area. He knew that if it hadn't been for him, France would not necessarily have been on top of her list. He was grateful that she had been willing to move… and he was determined to make it worth her while.

Right before he left the house, he heard her coming downstairs. She had put on his robe, her hair was mussed and she stifled a yawn with a sheepish grin as she found him looking at her, with a mix of tenderness and amusement. "You're leaving already?" she asked. "Yep, I have to go," he confirmed, "but I have time to say goodbye properly…" He put his briefcase to the side, and a second later she was in his arms. She held him tight, nuzzled his neck and said softly "You better go, or I'll drag you right back into that sitting room and down on the carpet. I'll see you later then!" She let him go, and a few moments later, he closed the door behind him.

Camille rang the bell at the department entrance – and Shaw came out to open the door for her. He welcomed her with a brief nod, stuttered "Sergeant Bordey! Ah – nice to see you again. I assume you want to see the Chief?" The door to Richard's office opened and he came out, saying "I heard the bell - you're just in time, Sergeant Bordey! Superintendent Potter just called me a minute ago, asking if we could start a little earlier." He came up to her, secretly gave her a little wink, then shook her hand and said "It's right over there," gesturing to an office door in the same hallway.

Camille thanked Shaw for opening the door for her and gave him a radiant smile. He blushed and hurried back into the office he shared with the three other sergeants – one female, two male. One of the latter stood in the doorframe, staring openly at Camille. Shaw shushed him back into the office, and Richard turned away to hide an amused smile. He could see that Camille would have dozens of worshippers at her feet in no time… and he wouldn't be surprised if his boss was one of them…

The meeting with Superintendent Potter went very well. Thanks to Richard's characterisation, she had been somewhat prepared for his fairly dry sense of humour and his matter-of-factness. There was some small talk about the weather, the differences in climate, and yesterday's flight in the beginning to break the ice, and Camille felt comfortable rather quickly. He asked her a few questions about her CV, and then he went on about the goals and plans they had with the department, describing some of the classes that he had in mind for her.

She quite liked him – he didn't make a big song and dance, but was to the point, friendly and pragmatic. She listened intently to what he said, gave a nod here, an understanding glance there, and threw in the occasional "I understand" or "I see". All in all, it was basically standard and what she had expected. She exchanged a brief glance with Richard who smiled reassuringly.

Superintendent Potter appeared to be looking into her file, but he noticed their brief exchange and decided to dig a little deeper. Formally, all his questions were answered – Sergeant Bordey seemed very capable, and she certainly was a charming person. The French had hired her, so he didn't have to go all the way and interview her comprehensively, but curiosity got the better of him – he had the feeling that there was more between these two than they wanted to let on.

So, he looked up and said to Richard "Ah, thank you, DCI Poole… If you don't mind, I'd like to – er – have a word with Sergeant Bordey in – er – private now… You might want to return to your office now, and later on, you may want to introduce Sergeant Bordey to the team members who currently are around… some are on holidays, but most should be present at the moment… Wasn't that the plan? Whatever, you know…"

Richard understood that Potter wanted to get rid of him, so he got up and said "Very well, sir… I'll see you later then, Sergeant Bordey." He nodded, gave her an encouraging smile and left.

Camille didn't quite know what to think of this, but well, what choice did she have but play along? Superintendent Potter leant back in his chair and said casually "Sergeant Bordey, DCI Poole has told me that you were his partner while he was on his assignment on Saint Marie. How long did you work together?" "A little over two years," Camille responded, a bit surprised about this question – it was all in her file, and after all, Richard had told him before, hadn't he?

"Tell me a little about the kind of cases you solved, the team and the circumstances, please." Camille asked back with a sincere smile "Where would you like me to start, sir? I mean, are you interested in the facilities, the team members, the surroundings?" "I'd be interested in all of these topics, but maybe you can explain if you were already a team member when DCI Poole arrived, how your cooperation developed and what sort of cases you worked on…"

Camille figured that he wanted to gauge what kind of character she was and how she would describe Richard – her superior – as that would give him an idea of her loyalty and maybe a hint about their relationship. 'So, let's give him some fodder… but not too much,' she decided. She wasn't totally inexperienced in playing games, either…

So she started: "Well, as it is, DCI Poole had been assigned to Saint Marie because the DI in charge, Charles Hulme, had been killed – and in the course of the investigations, it turned out that…" She went on, describing how Richard had worked on the case. Then she said "I was an undercover agent, working on the case connected to Hulme's death, a case of human trafficking. By the time DCI Poole came to Saint Marie, it wasn't entirely clear that the cases were connected, and so our investigations kind of interfered, and in a situation that turned out to be hazardous, I had to give up my cover – DCI Poole hadn't been informed about the undercover operation, so he had to assume I was involved in the case, and that led to misunderstandings."

She avoided giving him details about how Richard had arrested her – that would have made him look stupid, and Potter would have suspected that they'd had a less than stellar start together… which was the truth, but she didn't want to tell him. She figured that Potter perhaps had already spoken to Commissioner Patterson – so she had to stay close to the truth, but she didn't want to go into detail, either.

"As the sergeant in charge had turned out to be a double murderer," – at that point, Potter gasped with shock, obviously he hadn't heard that part of the story yet – "there was a vacancy in the Honoré team, and since I had had to give up my cover, Commissioner Patterson offered me the position. So, DCI Poole and I both started to work at Honoré around the same time. We solved more than a dozen murder cases together with our team colleagues, Sergeant Best and Officer Myers, and…"

She explained about the lack of forensics and ballistics and described some of Richard's homespun experiments that had helped to find evidence and solve cases. The way she talked about them showed Potter that she had understood the experiments and their purposes, and she went on about how Richard had never given up until all the pieces of the puzzle had fit together. He was secretly impressed with how Poole had handled that situation. It must have been very frustrating for him to have to wait for results when he had been used to having modern facilities nearby.

It shed an interesting light on him – so far, Potter had always heard that Poole was eccentric and difficult, although he had never made that impression on him. He knew that Poole was not one to blandish people, and he could be terribly abrupt and overly keen on sticking to what he called 'procedure', but that didn't necessarily mean he was difficult for the sake of being difficult, as some people seemed to think. He was just uber-correct. But Bordey's description also showed that he was resourceful, and he finally understood why Poole's courses in forensics were so popular. If he could fill an exciting and ravishing woman like Camille Bordey with enthusiasm for homespun science experiments, he was indeed a gifted teacher…

She concluded by saying "I have learnt an awful lot from DCI Poole, and I can certainly say that despite our different ways of approaching cases – I'm more the intuitive kind, if you know what I mean, while he is definitely more systematic and meticulous – we worked together very well and efficiently. I can say that we have become friends over time, and when he – er – had to leave the island, everyone in the team was devastated. DI Goodman was his successor, as you might know. We – as a team - worked together with him very well, too, although his methods are rather different."

Potter was impressed with her loyalty and eloquence. She didn't sing Richard's praises to the extreme, but she pointed out his strong sides, admitted that they had different approaches, and showed the right amount of respect. If there was more between the two of them, it hadn't blurred her judgment – neither did she go over the top with her appreciation of him, nor did she badmouth Goodman (who had the reputation of being a bit chaotic – he had never met him in person, but Goodman had worked for one of his friends for a while, and he had sometimes made a remark about Goodman's somewhat disjointed investigation style), although she obviously had preferred working with Poole. Poole's remark that she had a knack with people had turned out to be accurate.

He said "Well, you know, DCI Poole has recommended you so warmly and absolutely wanted to have you in his international team – and I can see why now. Thank you, Sergeant Bordey – this was very interesting. I understand that you'll meet some of the other team members now, and later on you'll see the coordinators and discuss your schedule with them. Of course, all these things will have to get coordinated with your department in France, but we like to have a tentative plan already. You will not have to jump right into the deep end with teaching, at least not with all courses – during the first term you will assist in some courses before you will take over more and more responsibility. Do you think you would be interested in supporting the covert policing team? The thing is that we have mostly focused on covert policing here in the UK, but more and more often we get requests to send officers to places abroad, and well… they have a hard time blending in there, so it might be a good idea to have a fresh approach from someone who comes from another country. Also… Well, Inspector Maynard surely is a very capable teacher, but we get more and more female officers who are interested in the subject, and some of his – er – ideas might not be all that – er – feasible for ladies, if you know what I mean…"

Camille had a vision of terribly dressed men in tweed and women in badly cut dresses with floral patterns, sticking out like sore thumbs wherever they went – she had seen so many of British couples like that during her time in Paris… - and nodded to indicate her interest. Superintendent Potter stretched out his legs under his desk, right into Camille's field of vision, and she almost choked with a mix of horror and amusement. Now she knew what Richard had meant the night before… his boss had chosen to wear – along with his serious immaculate dark suit, the light blue shirt and the unspectacular dark blue tie – striped socks in yellow, turquoise and bright red.


	4. New People and Old Demons

"So, how did it go?" Richard asked when they were on their way home. He had already heard about the conversation with Potter – and chuckled about her categorical announcement that if he EVER decided to wear socks in glaring colours like the ones his boss wore, she'd abandon him and never come back -, and he had introduced her to the members of the teaching team that were present at the moment – they had all gone to lunch together, and it had been fun. A few others from the international department had tagged along as well, and Camille had enjoyed getting to know them a little better.

Much to her surprise, she hadn't found it very difficult to act 'professionally' with Richard – she had been a bit worried that they'd find it hard to hide their feelings for one another, but it hadn't been all that challenging. They had fallen into their old Saint Marie routine of rolling their eyes at one another and exchanging banter very quickly again, and it had felt like they were sitting on the patio of La Kaz, teasing each other about their respective habits.

She had noticed that a couple of his colleagues had been a bit taken aback by their candid exchanges, but the explanation that she and Richard had known each other for almost 4 years now had been satisfactory enough. Michael Shaw had also come along, and much to Richard's amusement, he had obviously found it hard to divide his attention between Camille and Sergeant Andrews (a pretty green-eyed redhead) who had recently been appointed to the team to step in for Sergeant Johnson who had gone on maternity leave. Shaw, on the other hand, couldn't help but notice that his boss wasn't his usual stuffy self when Camille Bordey was around… but now that he knew that they had worked together for quite a while, he understood better.

After lunch, Camille had disappeared to discuss things with the coordinators. She had been given a temporary chip card, valid until Sunday, just in case she'd want to come to the department (she had no further official meetings, though) – and the officer in charge had assured her that upon her return to the UK after her initial phase in France she'd receive a permanent card. She had been assigned a desk in an open plan office for six people where she could sit down to prepare classes, if necessary. The French were supposed to give her a laptop, but for the moment, a regular computer had been set up on her desk, and she had familiarised herself with the telephone, the e-mail system, the calendar tool and the intranet. It was fun to get to know all the new people and learn about new procedures and customs. But by 3 p.m., Camille had hit a low and started to long for a bed, so she had been extremely grateful when Sergeant Shaw had showed up and asked her shyly if she wanted to join him and Andrews for a cup of coffee in the small kitchenette, next to the Sergeants' Office.

They had asked her about Saint Marie, and she had told them a few things about life in the Caribbean. Just as she had been describing the rustling of the palm trees and the amazing wildlife, she had heard Richard saying drily behind her "Yeah, right – and don't forget the hurricanes, the washhouse atmosphere, the free range chickens and the lizards and snakes everywhere…" Andrews and Shaw had stood straight, but Richard had said "For Heaven's sake, stand easy… I just want a cup of tea!" Camille had arched her eyebrows as she saw the teabags, and he had said ruefully "Yes, I know – it's blasphemic. But loose tea is too much of a hassle here…"

A few moments later, he had disappeared again, with his mug, and Andrews had looked after him, saying pensively "He's in a pretty good mood today, isn't he?" Shaw had nudged her and she had said "Oh, don't get me wrong, Sergeant Bordey…" "It's Camille, please!" she had interjected. Andrews had blushed under her freckles and said "Thank you. I'm Liz, and he is Michael" – she had pointed to Shaw.

Then she had continued "Don't get me wrong, Camille, the Chief is great – but he can be a bit moody at times, and he has been fairly stressed over the past two weeks. He gets a bit – er…" "Cranky?" Camille had helped out. Andrews had smiled and said "I guess I should have known – you have worked with him, after all… yes, he gets cranky when he's stressed – and it's nice to see that he's over it, whatever it was."

Camille didn't tell Richard about this conversation on their way home. She told him about the meeting with the coordinators, however, and declared that she wouldn't come back to the office the next few days – because there were no further meetings scheduled, and she'd have to go clothes shopping. Liz Andrews had given her a few useful hints regarding charity stores – she had mentioned that Camille could get fancy clothes there for a fraction of the usual price, and given the fact that she had only packed a minimum wardrobe, it seemed like a good idea to have a look at these charity shops before hitting the regular stores. She could still do that later on.

She had decided to get at least two more 'business outfits', as she called them – she had two now, but would need two more for Paris, so she wanted to see what was available. Plus she'd need more casual stuff that was suitable for the climate. She had left her very short shorts and the sleeveless tops on Saint Marie – she couldn't wear them here, anyway…

Richard was happy that she didn't ask him to come along – he would have found it hard to make the time for that at this point, and he didn't want to sacrifice half of the weekend for shopping – they had promised to visit his parents, after all.

At home, Camille went right upstairs to get changed, and when she came downstairs again, Richard couldn't help but smile – she wore the jeans and the blue checkered blouse that she had worn when she had visited him in rehab about a year ago. He couldn't quite decide which look he preferred – the business-like outfits or the casual ones… the casual ones were what he was used to, but Camille looked fabulous in the more formal clothes, too. Well, whatever – she was a beauty, no matter what (with or without clothes, actually… as he mused, feeling a little guilty for his not entirely politically correct and socially acceptable thoughts).

They discussed dinner – since they had been out for lunch, they didn't feel like cooking much and ended up having some bread with cold cuts and pickles. Camille asked a few more questions about the department and some of the people she had met today, and Richard told her what he knew about all of them so far. "You know I haven't been there for very long yet," he said, "so, I can't say all that much about most of them, but I'd say it's a pretty easy going gang of people, but they do their jobs, and so it's all good… even for someone like me…"

Camille laughed and said "Oh, I know… you're such a stickler, and you get fed up quickly with lazy bones and idlers. I quite like Andrews and Shaw, for that matter… they are friendly, but still respectful."

Richard said thoughtfully "They are. The other two in their office are okay as well. Peterson is a bit cheeky sometimes – he's the one who stared at you when you came in this morning." Camille took a gherkin and tried to remember Peterson, but she had met so many new people today that she couldn't recall his face. Oh well, she'd survive. "You know, they made me all feel so welcome," she said thoughtfully, "and I couldn't help but remember how nasty I was when I first met you. And how I kept teasing you about the least little thing… that was so bad-mannered, wasn't it…"

"Oh, Dwayne and particularly Fidel evened it out for you," he countered. She laughed out loud and said "Yeah right… Fidel worshipped you from the moment you had put together that vase… with superglue… I don't think he had ever met anybody quite as pedantic and meticulous as you before. He kept talking about that for months, and it was one of the first things he told me about you. And mind you, I can't blame him… you were quite a change from Charlie Hulme, apparently… he had always been a bit too slack, from what I've heard about him, and you know how accurate Fidel is, so he didn't like that so much. You were his idol, however… with a few quirks and idiosyncrasies, but generally a paragon of virtue – at least when it came to police work and decency… Nobody else ever earned Fidel's respect like you did."

She saw him giving her a sideways glance. "What?" she asked.

"Tell me about Humphrey," he said.

"What do you want to know?" He shrugged. "You just never said all that much about what he's like… except for a few complaints here and there…" He knew it sounded lame.

She raised her eyebrows. "Well, I didn't want to spoil what little time we had together, you know. He's not important enough to me, really. But well, what can I tell you? That he's a nutcase and completely disorganised? That his clothes look like he's sleeping in them? That he can be a pain in the neck? Or that he's a genius detective, kind, friendly and caring?" She chuckled. "All of that is true. He's also tall, lanky and boyish."

She noticed how his face fell. Softly, she continued "I've said it before, Richard, and I'll say it again – he couldn't hold a candle to you. From a professional point of view – yes, he is clever, and he has solved a lot of cases that others couldn't have solved because of his unique approach, and yes, he's got that certain something that makes all the difference between a 'good' and an 'excellent' detective. In that respect, he's on a par with you. You have different approaches to cases, but you get there in the end – both of you. And yes, he's pleasant, he's interested, he wants to do fun things, and he doesn't want tea all the time or is obsessed with getting the sand out of the shack."

She laughed and took a bite of bread - and Richard looked down on his plate. He was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable, but he had asked, and she was only making a reply…

Camille knew what his question was really about and said tenderly "But if you haven't noticed, Richard, I'm here. With you. I have spent all those months waiting for this. I have been loving you for so long… and nobody else ever stood a chance because I knew you were the one I wanted to be with."

She leant over to kiss his cheek. "When I came over for the first time last summer, I didn't know what to expect. Your mother had said that she was sure you'd have stronger feelings for me than you were aware of, and I wanted to believe her… I needed to know, and so… I don't think I ever told you how scared I was that you'd push me away and I had only imagined the bond between us."

Richard remembered how gobsmacked he had been to see her. It had been like a dream come true – he had spent so much time thinking about her and chiding himself for having wasted so many opportunities… and then she had showed up, out of the blue… It had been a brave thing to do – after all, he had never given her any reason to believe that she was more to him than a coworker and a friend. Well, okay… he had let on that she was more, maybe once or twice, but he hadn't been sure if she had understood. Yet, she had not given up but come over… and run the risk of getting disappointed.

He also remembered that evening on the couch when she had stayed with him after Christmas – how she had cried in his arms and opened up to him about all the pain, fear of rejection and feelings of worthlessness that had been bottled up inside her. It had taken courage to talk about this – knowing that it would be painful and taking the risk that he – Richard – would perhaps not understand. But she had trusted him. She had always trusted him. She had trusted him, despite all the pain, grief and disappointments she had gone through in the past, with her father leaving the family, Aimee getting killed and all the other experiences that had shaped her.

Why couldn't he just be happy with her trust and faith in him? Wasn't it silly to ask her about Humphrey?

She didn't notice his pangs of remorse but continued "I spent time with the team and with Humphrey because I was lonely. I didn't want to connect with new people. The team felt safe. I needed that cocoon for a while. It was easier to spend time with them than meet new people – who would have asked all sorts of questions that I didn't want to answer. Dwayne and Fidel knew how I felt when… well, when you were attacked… I didn't have to explain. As for Humphrey, I was grateful for how quickly he solved the case, and he was okay to work with – since you were gone, we had to get used to someone new, whether we wanted it or not, and he did his best to fit in and make us feel valued."

For a moment, she was lost in memories. Then, she went on "It seemed safe to spend time with him also because he was married. I didn't expect him to be more than a friend, and to me, he never was more, anyway… I realised too late that his marriage already was doomed when he moved to Saint Marie and that he was idolizing me. Fidel gave me a hint before he left for St. Lucia, and it was then that I began to understand that he was putting me on a pedestal. Seriously, I couldn't understand it because I never encouraged that. I was impatient with him very often, and I rolled my eyes at him constantly…"

"You did that with me, too," he threw in. "Yes, I know," she admitted. "But with you, it was different. I didn't only respect you as a detective, I respected you as a person, once I got to know you better. You are reliable, you take responsibility, and you are organised. You…"

She faltered, then said a little sheepishly "You compensated for my shortcomings. I'm not very organised myself, and well, you know how I tend to bend the rules. I could be the wild girl with you, and you were forbearing with me, once we knew each other and you understood that I did my job and wasn't only playing around. You let me be me. You accepted me. I'm not saying that you understood me, but although I must have been such a pain in the neck very often, you never tried to change me. We argued, yes, and I loved it. Constant harmony is boring. And unnatural… Whereas… Humphrey pushed me into the role of the mature one, the nanny, the babysitter. You know how often I complained about his clumsiness and the awkward situations he got into because he wanted to please everyone. It was… tiresome. And at the same time, he didn't respect the boundaries that I set. He's been good to me, yes, and I appreciate that. And I find it admirable how he keeps getting up after having fallen down, if you know what I mean. But other than that… there's not much to say about him."

She fell silent. Looking at him, she tried to figure out if her explanation had reassured him.

He looked up and said "I'm sorry, Camille… I shouldn't have asked. I guess I just wanted to get a clearer picture. I – I suppose I'm really an idiot."

"Well, I love you, anyway," she said softly and smiled at him again. "Seriously, you can't be an idiot. You organised all this so we can be together, and I'm happy… and it's a good thing that we can talk about all these things. I'm glad that you asked because that way, it won't stand between us. As I said, I never considered the whole thing to be all that important, but obviously, it has been bothering you in some way, and so it's good that you gave me the chance to explain the relationship and dynamics between Humphrey and me."

With that, the topic was finished, and Camille hoped sincerely that it wouldn't come up again. Richard had no reason to feel threatened by Humphrey – who was on Saint Marie, anyway, and no longer part of her life. Maman had told her in their brief conversation on the phone that Humphrey had pretended to be entirely unperturbed by her departure after his initial 'doom and gloom' disposition, but really, Camille was beyond caring. Florence would take her place quickly, and what was more, she would reciprocate Humphrey's feelings – so all would be well on Saint Marie.


	5. A Successful Day

The next morning found Camille on the tube, heading out to hunt for a new wardrobe.

It turned out that Liz Andrews had been right – the charity shops were literally full of fancy clothes that had hardly been worn and still were very much in fashion. Camille didn't go overboard, though – she picked wisely and ended up with several blouses and tops, two jackets (black, one was shorter, the other was longer and more formal), two smart trousers (grey and red) and two skirts (hunter green and black with pin stripes).

Along with all that, she purchased a selection of accessories, like scarves, belts and fashionable jewelry, plus some hairbands, clips and barrettes in various colours. For job purposes, she now had everything she needed for the moment. She would buy new shoes in Paris – she had a favourite store there that no other store she knew could compare to.

The charity shops also carried casual clothing, of course, so she picked a few items in that department as well. She had looked into Richard's wardrobe and figured he could help her out with a fleece shirt or a jumper, but she'd need more sweatshirts and casual trousers, so she got two of each and even picked up a couple of long sleeved blouses and shirts. She was lucky as there was a rather good selection in her size, so she could even choose between different colours and styles.

So, she was quite happy with herself when she returned back home just after 3 p.m. She had taken the time to sit down in a coffee shop and get a sandwich in between… For a brief moment she had considered calling Richard and asking if he wanted to have lunch with her, but then she had figured it might look odd to his team if she did that – after all, they were only supposed to be colleagues and old friends.

She couldn't possibly show up on his doorstep in the department with all her purchases, that would seem more than just a little weird, and since she didn't know if he had made any arrangements to eat out with others, she didn't want to put him into a dilemma… she knew he'd want to please her, and it could make things difficult if he had already agreed to go out with other people from work.

Plus she was honestly getting tired, and she was longing for some rest. If she sat down to have a real lunch in town, she'd find it much harder to get up and move again – so it seemed sensible to have a snack on her own and go home afterwards.

When she arrived in their little house, she got rid of her shoes first before dumping all the bags in the hall, then she went into the kitchen and made herself a cup of coffee. She had bought some good coffee on the way back home yesterday, and although it wasn't the same like the French coffee she was used to, it was okay. Margaret and Robert had brought a French press as a welcome gift, so that was already a first step. Now she only had to get a grinder some time so she could buy beans instead of ground coffee… She'd do that next time…

It was thrilling to know that 'next time' wouldn't be in another six months, but much, much sooner. She was still in awe about how everything had worked out for her… When she had returned to Saint Marie after Christmas, she had not dared to hope she'd be offered a suitable position so quickly – everything had seemed to be a bit iffy when she had started looking.

Of course, Richard's intervention had helped – and really, if it hadn't been for him, they might not have approached her at all… but never mind, she was just happy that it had indeed happened, that she was here, and that she'd do something new and exciting soon. Teaching would be interesting, and working with Richard – albeit in a different way than what they had been used to – would be fun. And work in the French team should be great as well – finally, she could speak her mother tongue again frequently – and not only with her mother!

She took her mug and carried it over to the table in the sitting room, then she picked up all the bags that were scattered in the hall and brought them into the sitting room as well. One by one, she laid out her purchases on the armchairs, the table, the backrest of the sofa… she was really pleased with herself. Richard would be impressed as well – at least she hoped so…

Richard was impressed alright when he came home at 5.30… Everything was quiet when he unlocked the door. However, in the hall, he found Camille's shoes, so he assumed that she was at home.

Sarcastically, he thought that it was a good thing that she wasn't a centipede, but only had two feet - otherwise she'd litter the hall with even more shoes... One pair – brown sandals - was placed neatly under the coat rack, but another pair – sensible black loafers – had clearly been kicked off carelessly and now formed a fine set of stumbling blocks. He picked them up and set them next to the sandals.

The door to the sitting room was half open, and he could see clothes scattered all over the place. Camille was nowhere to be seen. He dropped his briefcase in the hall, hung up his jacket, got rid of his tie and called "Camille?" There was no reply. He was a little worried now.

He saw the mug on the table as he came closer, opened the door to the sitting room and looked around. One of the windows was ajar, and the curtain was half closed to fend off the late afternoon sunshine, so the room was cool and airy.

There she was, lying on the sofa, surrounded by the mess she had created - fast asleep. Her wild curls were spread out on the armrest, her nose was dug into the cushion, and a pair of jeans and a navy blue sweatshirt were crumpled between her body and the backrest. He couldn't help but smile at this unexpected sight. Obviously, the shopping spree had been successful – and exhausting.

Quietly, he took the mug and carried it back into the kitchen where he put it in the sink, then he returned to the sitting room and began to clear away the chaos. As he folded the clothes he noticed with appreciation that she had bought good quality, the formal clothes could all be combined with one another, and the more casual stuff was also nice and practical. He put the fashion jewelry and accessories into one of the paper bags next to the pile of clothes he had set on the dining table and looked at Camille again. She looked so sweet and innocent. It seemed cruel to do it, but he had to wake her, or she wouldn't sleep during the night.

So, he knelt down by the sofa and began to stroke her hair, very softly. She moved a little, and his hand touched her cheek. "Camille," he whispered. "Hmmmm…," came her murmured reply. "Camille, wake up…" "Hmmmm… not yet…" He smiled and leant over to kiss her temple, his hand rested lightly on her hip now. "Camille… please… you've got to get up now," he said, a little louder now. Her lashes fluttered. She opened her eyes sleepily and looked at him. "What time is it?" she asked, a little confused. "It's almost six…" He smiled tenderly, and she said sheepishly "Oh."

The look on her face was adorable as she smiled back at him, clearly delighted to see him. He couldn't help it – somehow, her lips were magnetic… so his face came closer to hers, and before either of them knew what was happening, her arm was around his neck. She pulled him towards her, and his lips found hers in a long and tender kiss. Her body was warm, and her mouth felt so smooth and soft.

She was such a temptation... and he found it impossible to resist.

So, his hand moved up under her blouse, and he quickly found bare skin as the top she was wearing underneath had slipped out of her trousers. He felt her shivering with delight and let his hand roam further. The nipple of the breast he was stroking now was getting harder, and she inhaled sharply as his lips moved from her mouth to her neck and further down, with increasing passion. He shoved up her blouse and her top so he could kiss her where his hands had just been.

"Richard… please…" she sighed, burying her fingers in his hair and holding his head in place. "Hmmm…" came his response.

He wanted more now… and her enthusiastic reaction made it more than clear that she didn't want him to stop.

There wasn't much room on the sofa, but they already knew that the carpet was fine, so she didn't protest when he gently pulled her down to get settled on the floor. Very slowly and tenderly, he peeled her out of her clothes, kissing and caressing her, and Camille moaned – with unconcealed lust now. She felt his arousal as she pressed herself against him, and when her hands pulled out the tails of his shirt and opened his belt, his breath hitched. Her hands were tenderly sliding over his back now, feeling his smooth skin.

Shortly afterwards, she had divested him of all his clothing, and they continued to kiss and touch each other until they both were ready for more. Camille's long legs wrapped around him when he finally came to her, and they got lost in one another. They wanted to take their time, but then their desire took over - things heated up quickly, and they moved faster…

When they eventually were about to reach their finish together, they were both breathless. Camille heard him gasping her name right when a wave of ecstasy washed over her, and they held on to each other for a little longer, savouring the intimacy of the moment.

Shortly afterwards, he rolled on his back – she didn't let go, but followed so she could snuggle up to him. Her head rested on his chest, and she felt him breathing heavily. Suddenly, she felt that he was laughing.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Good grief, Camille… it's not very romantic, but I just thought how bloody well right I was when I figured earlier on that it's good you're not a centipede…"

"Huh?!" She lifted her head and stared at him, bewildered and nonplussed. He laughed harder now until he got the hiccups.

Camille had never ever seen him laugh like this before in all the years she had known him, and she couldn't help it – it was contagious. So, they lay there, laughing until the tears came. Eventually, they pulled themselves together, though, and Richard managed to explain his train of thought. Camille pretended to feel offended and hit him over the head with a cushion, and within seconds, they were involved in some sort of pillow fight. After a few minutes, Richard caught her wrists, though, and when he called 'Peace, Camille', she gave in quickly and let him kiss her once again before he got on his feet, held out his hand to help her up and said "As much as I'm enjoying this – someone has to cook dinner. I'm starving. Let's get dressed and see what's in the fridge!"

He went upstairs to put on something comfortable, and when he came down again, in blue chinos and a short sleeved shirt, Camille had got dressed, too, and taken the tidy pile of her purchases (that Richard had folded so neatly!) to the sofa so she could set the table for dinner later on.

"Is pasta okay?" Richard asked. "I could whip up a quick sauce – I have tuna, cherry tomatoes, and zucchini… or courgette, as you might call it… along with – er – whatever I can find. I don't think we have spaghetti, but fettucine or penne should do as well, I guess." Camille was fine with that. She remembered that he actually cooked better than she had initially thought.

Somehow, she had always thought of him being stuck with toast and eggs, but that had been a misconception, as she had found out when she had stayed with him after Christmas. He wasn't overly adventurous, and the food he cooked wasn't as spicy as her mother's, but it was all tasty and fairly well seasoned.

He had raised his eyebrows when he had noticed her surprise and asked "Well, how do you think I survived on Saint Marie?" She had tilted her head to one side and asked back "On banana sandwiches, toast and eggs?" It had only been one of several misconceptions she had had about him. His personality had so many layers… it was fun to discover them one by one.

While he was cooking, Camille set the table, complete with candles, pretty napkins and the flowers that were now in full bloom. She knew he had bought them for her, and she appreciated the efforts he made.

They really had come a long way from their initial arguments and 'differences in opinion'…

He wasn't so afraid of showing his feelings any more, and while he would never be a very spontaneous or demonstrative man, he had become a lot better in that department. She grinned to herself as she thought of their recent 'activities' on the carpet – not in a million years would she have expected anything like that to happen when she first had come to visit him in rehab last year. When she had come over for Christmas, though, she had understood that while he might not be overly demonstrative around others, he definitely knew how to show love and fervour in private.

When she had fantasized about any kind of physical contact to him, it had always been rather diffuse because that had been a side of him she had absolutely no idea about. He had always been so stuffy on Saint Marie, so apprehensive of getting touched… Really, that night in the meteorological lab had been somewhat ridiculous because he had obviously tried very hard to avoid touching her, and then they had woken up almost cuddled up to one another – well, not really, but he had moved closer to her in his sleep, and she had been tempted to snuggle up to him – but the fact that he had always been so distant and aloof had discouraged her in the end.

And that had been as far as they had got in regard to physical contact, and given his starchiness, she hadn't had any idea of what it would be like with him…

Actually, he had surprised her with his passion – once his initial inhibitions and doubts had been overcome, it had turned out that he was very sensual and receptive – and very giving. There hadn't been any awkwardness between them at all – she had expected him to maybe feel self-conscious or nervous, but no… it had all been natural and easy between them. Camille had had boyfriends before, of course, but none of them had made her feel so special, so loved, so cherished… She definitely was one lucky girl, she realised.

She had just come to that point in her reveries when Richard looked up and asked with arched eyebrows "Do you want to remain standing there like a statue, or do you think you could come down from whatever cloud you're currently sitting on and hand me the plates over there?"

She huffed with mock irritation, threw a dishtowel in his direction and stuck out her tongue - and they both laughed in mutual understanding as they carried their plates into the sitting room.

They talked about their respective adventures of the day during dinner, and then Richard said, much to her pleasure "I hope you don't have any fancy plans for tomorrow as of yet. I have decided to take the afternoon off, so you could pick me up at the station and we'd visit Kew Gardens then – I thought we'd take along some food and have a picnic there… what do you think?"

"That's the Botanical Garden, isn't it?" she asked. "Make that plural, Camille… it's quite a large area… but yes, you are right. Would you enjoy that? I haven't been there in years, but their website looks fantastic, and Shaw and Andrews were raving about it a little while ago, too. I thought with the weather being so nice, it would be a good idea, but if you rather…" "No, no, no – I'd love to go there! I'm not overly talented with flowers and plants myself, but I love botanical gardens, parks and the like, so let's do it!"

So, that was settled. They finished their dinner, and after they had done the dishes together, Camille decided to show Richard the treasures she had found in the charity shops. He had to sit on the sofa, and the fashion show began. It was very entertaining because Camille decided to make a big thing out of it, with twirling, spinning and whirling around, and she showed him variations of the same outfit by adding different accessories. He was rather impressed – and of course, it was fun watching her. She was so playful and enthusiastic!

How amazing it was to have her in his life… They had slipped into a similar routine like the one they had had when she had come for Christmas – it was so easy with her.

Only a few more days, and she'd have to leave for Paris. He was determined to make the most of the remaining time. So far, he was very happy with how her visit had turned out – and fortunately, it wouldn't be another six months before he'd see her again.

That knowledge was very comforting…


	6. An Afternoon Out

Kew Gardens turned out to be a great idea. It was always fairly crowded at this time of the year, but as they visited on a Friday, it was bearable. The weekends apparently were much worse, from what they had heard. Since the gardens were so large, the masses didn't concentrate, but got scattered - there were certain areas that were more popular, and those were crowded, but if you didn't care for the highlights and just wandered around, it was fine.

Camille and Richard had no actual 'must see' spots on their list – Richard had assured her that they could go again whenever she felt like doing so in the future, so there was no need to pack in literally every big number. They made a point of seeing the waterlilies and also visited one of the greenhouses, but other than that, they just walked around and looked at whatever came their way. Every once in a while, they consulted the little map that they had received when they had bought their tickets, but overall, they were happy just to drift along, look around and talk about whatever came to their mind.

Eventually, they sat on a bench to eat the sandwiches that Camille had prepared – she had insisted on doing that instead of buying ready-made food. It was a sunny, though slightly chilly day – it had rained during the night, so the temperatures had gone down again a little.

Camille leant back, closed her eyes and sighed. "What?" asked Richard. "I'm happy," she said. He smiled at her and wondered for the umpteenth time how he had ever managed without her – and what had come over her to fall in love with him. Whatever it was, he hoped the spell wouldn't break.

Without opening her eyes she said "Don't say anything. Just be happy with me…"

"I am," he replied, took her hand and leant back as well.

For a few minutes, they just sat there, then she began to speak again, her eyes still closed. "Isn't it amazing to think that I'll be back again in less than a month? And we will be able to talk on the phone and skype without having to cope with that huge time difference? An hour isn't too bad…" Her voice trailed off.

"You're looking forward to the new challenge, aren't you?" he asked.

"Yes, I am. Well, mostly. And it will be exciting to be back in France – plus I'll frequently come to London, and we can be together regularly. Saint Marie is wonderful, and I love it there. But I've been feeling stalled there, ever since you – well, since that nasty thing happened. I didn't want to be there any more after you had left. And yet I didn't know where to go and what to do… at least not for the first half year. After I had visited last summer, I had a better idea, but of course, I wasn't sure how you'd feel about it all…"

He turned his head and looked at her, admiring her exquisite profile. "Well, I know I haven't been all that eloquent, but didn't you notice that I wanted nothing more than have you near me?"

He saw her lips curving in a small smile, and he answered his own question, with a slightly glum undertone "Obviously not… Good heavens, Camille, I'm such a loser."

Her smile got wider, and she opened her eyes, turned her head to him and said "Oh Richard… You are a lot of things. But you're not a loser, and I wish you'd stop thinking negatively about yourself. You're actually wonderful, you've just been really good at hiding it. You've become more open, though, and I'm happy that you're not so extremely reserved any more. For the records… yes, you showed me that you wanted me to come back, so don't worry! But in any case… you are who you are, and I'm not going to reform you – if you haven't noticed yet, I've fallen for who you are, not for some 'image' you could be if you tried really hard. When I'm with you, there's no place I'd rather be. If you had stayed on Saint Marie, I'd have stayed as well, and if you had moved to the moon, I would have followed you there. Although… I'm inclined to say that the UK is much better than the moon. Less isolated, that is…"

He laughed. She was silly, but he liked that. He was glad that she understood his occasional hang-ups – the self doubts had been part of his life for so long, it was hard to leave them behind.

She continued, sounding more thoughtful now, "You know, Richard, we have both changed a bit over the years, but we've remained true to ourselves, I think. I'm still stubborn and impulsive, and you're still stubborn and… well, not very impulsive. Most of the time, at least. Though you have your moments… I think we've learnt to be more tolerant with one another… That icepick drama has perhaps made us realise how we really feel about each other. You've let me in so much more than ever before. And I can be myself with you. I've been hiding myself behind that happy-go-lucky image for so long, and I had given up on finding someone who'd want to look behind it.I feel that… well, you know… although we have spent so much time apart since you left, we have become much, much closer… we're both more open about our feelings, and I know now that you won't leave me just because I'm not always upbeat and happy."

"That is because I'm pretty grumpy myself," he said, raising his eyebrows and giving her a half smile. She laughed and rose from the bench, taking his hand and pulling him up. "Come on, you morose prophet of doom – let's have a look at some of the flower patches at the other end over there!"

As they wandered over, holding hands, he thought of how Camille had come to see him in rehab… and he had almost lost her because he had been unsure about how to confess that he had missed her and that she had always been on his mind. Showing her that she was important to him had been the first step out of the vicious cycle of longing, fear, and loss that he had been experiencing over and over… He never wanted to go back to that nightmare...

He silently thanked his psychologist in rehab for suggesting that he'd try to be more open about his feelings towards the people he cared about. "Small steps," that had been her mantra for him. "You don't have to say much, but it will make a difference to say those few words, you'll see."

Thankfully, she hadn't been one of those mushy "And how do you feel about this" types who'd go on and on about the subconscious and mindfulness and what-not. She had been compassionate in a professional manner, and her down-to-earthness had been helpful. She had given him practical, useful hints, not a whole lot of philosophical rubbish. Her method had been based on the concept that you can't change your personality, but you can change behaviour patterns – consciously, little by little, and in the long run, your approach and attitude would change – all embedded in your personality structure. And much to his surprise, she had been right.

He had always felt that it made you too vulnerable to talk about affection and that others would interpret it as weakness – well, that had been his experience, after all. He had become more emotional after that horrible stabbing attack, though, and he hadn't quite known how to deal with that – for so long he had been used to hiding his feelings, and that just didn't seem to fit him any more.

But he had never really learnt how to show positive feelings… Affection and love had made him uncomfortable… and of course, he had always had trust issues. Understanding that he could show love without being mocked had helped enormously with the relationship with his parents, and it had made a relationship with Camille possible at all. Life was so much better this way. He had always dismissed this as rubbish – but really, it wasn't…

Confessing to Camille on New Year's Eve that he loved her had been a major step for him. It hadn't come easy. But how could he not take this step? Particularly considering that she had opened up to him and cried in his arms, telling him about all the pain she had been going through? No, she had not been upbeat and happy that evening… She had been vulnerable, defenceless, raw… It had nearly broken his heart to see her like that… and her faith in him had touched him deeply. If she trusted him like that – surely he could trust her, too? And it had turned out that taking this leap of faith had been the right thing to do…

Camille interrupted his musings by asking what they'd do tonight. "Whatever you like," he responded. "Do you want to go out for dinner? We could go to our little restaurant, if that's what you'd like to do… I could ask them to reserve a table for us…"

She nodded happily, and so he made the call – "yes, 7 will be fine, thank you" – and then said to Camille "Sorry, they didn't have anything after that, but that way we'll be at home early, too…" She smiled and said "No worries. It's not that we wouldn't know what to do at home, hmmm?"

Richard blushed. He was a little embarrassed to be reminded of how impulsively he had acted when he had come home the day before and found her sleeping on the sofa. But then again… it had been fun, hadn't it… and she hadn't complained.

And she hadn't thrown a fit when he had mentioned that centipede thing… it had crossed his mind, completely out of the blue, and it had just appeared so funny in that moment. He was grateful that they had reached this level of mutual understanding. He was fairly sure she wouldn't have a go at him any more if he ever compared her to a mature Rioja again…

Fortunately, the weather remained stable, so the remainder of the afternoon was spent walking around and admiring all sorts of flower beds and exhibits on the grounds of the gardens. It was fun, but also tiring, so when they finally got on the overground again to get home to the North of London, Camille put her head on Richard's shoulder for a moment and sighed happily. They had been lucky to find seats at all – the train was crowded. Just when they had entered, a couple of people had got off, so that had been their chance. It certainly was better than standing for almost an entire hour.

They got off eventually and walked for a little, and Richard went back to the station to pick up his briefcase, entering through the main entrance – he hadn't wanted to carry the case around all afternoon. Camille waited outside the building, on the opposite side of the street, having a look at the chocolates, tea and liqueurs that one of the shops had on display in the window. Richard crossed the street, and together they walked away, laughing and chatting.

Neither of them saw Liz Andrews coming out of the building shortly after Richard. She had put in some extra time because of a project she had wanted to finish, so she was unusually late. Richard hadn't met her when he had gone to his office to pick up his briefcase as she had taken a pile of binders back to another wing of the building before leaving for home…

She watched the two of them walking away, and a little smile appeared on her face as she saw DCI Poole – who usually could only be described as utterly starchy and ultra-correct – putting his arm around Camille's shoulders. Just for an instant, then he let go again, but still… And the way they laughed together… Now, if that was only friendship, she'd eat her hat… or whatever else she could find that would at least resemble a hat. She wondered if Superintendent Potter knew about it - or Michael. Whatever! She'd keep her mouth shut for the moment – it would be interesting to see how this would develop.

Dinner at the little restaurant was fun. They talked about Kew Gardens, some of the flowers they had seen, sights in London in general, then sights in Paris, gardens in Paris, museums in Paris, museums in London, the Loire valley with its amazing castles, and all sorts of other things. Afterwards, Camille excused herself, and Richard called the waitress so he could settle the bill. The girl smiled at him and said "Thank you, sir, and I hope you'll come round again soon."

He put his reading glasses away (he had recently got them and still was a little reluctant to wear them – but they made reading the menu or deciphering bills a lot easier!), nodded briefly and got up (not without leaving a generous tip), and when Camille came back from the restroom a second later, they set off for their little house.

They walked the short distance, hand in hand, and Camille said "Thank you, Richard. That was a wonderful day, and I loved every minute of it. Minus the washing orgy that I had to get done this morning – I put all my stuff in the washer and hung it up afterwards so it could dry over night. I didn't want to leave it all to you when I'll go to Paris… in a few days. And I wanted to take a few items with me, anyway, so…"

Suddenly, she fell silent. He cleared his throat and said "Well, the day isn't over yet, is it…"

They went up the few steps to the door, Richard unlocked the door to the house, and Camille wondered what he was up to as she followed him inside… he had sounded pensive.

She watched him dropping his briefcase in its usual corner, hanging up his jacket and bringing up the tie from his pocket – he had taken it off when they had set off for Kew Gardens. He seemed focused, and his hands moved deftly and accurately. She remembered all the things he had done to her with those hands since she had arrived here in London and felt her face get warm. Again she mused that she had never felt so loved in her life… This man who had always appeared so aloof and distant had turned into her fixed star.

Tomorrow, they'd go to see his parents and stay with them, and on Sunday, she'd have to fly over to Paris again. Suddenly, she felt sadness welling up. A knot seemed to tie up and grow in her stomach, and she felt tears coming up. She didn't want to go and leave him here…

He turned around to her, about to ask her something – and there she stood, looking at him, tears in her eyes. He reacted quickly – a split second later, she was in his arms, her head rested on his shoulder, and he stroked her hair, murmuring soothing words of love.

A few minutes later, she had found her balance again. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "I just had a moment of… oh, I don't know."

"It's alright, Camille… We have another full day – and a half."

He held her tight, and she sniffed and said "It's silly. I mean, it's been half a year since I've last been here, and I know that this time, we'll be together again much, much sooner – and yet it breaks my heart to think that I'll be gone in two days…"

"Shh…" he whispered, and they stood locked together for a few more moments. Then, he loosened his grip and said "Let's go inside, alright? That is… just go ahead and make yourself comfortable there, and I'll be back in a minute…" She nodded faintly and went into the sitting room while he took two steps at a time to get upstairs quickly.

She was glad that he didn't ask any questions about her sudden mood swing, but simply accepted it. It had been such a lovely day, and in Kew Gardens, she had felt so positive about everything… why did she have to ruin the evening like that?


	7. Decisions

As she closed the curtains, she berated herself for being so teary-eyed. She really didn't quite know what had come over her. It was stupid – this was their last evening together as a couple, just the two of them, and she was about to spoil it by being a whiny crybaby…

She heard him entering the room and turned around to him, ready to apologise again, but he just smiled at her and said "Come on, let's not argue about who's more gloomy… We've had a wonderful afternoon, and we have tonight, and I'm sure tomorrow will be lovely, too. Mum will come up with the fatted calf, and Dad will pay you all sorts of sweet compliments – doesn't that sound like fun?" She couldn't help but laugh and said "Oh, Richard, you are so… impossible!"

A few minutes later, she sat cuddled up to him on the sofa, her feet pulled up, a glass of red wine in her hand and his arm around her shoulders. That felt so good… How had she ever managed without him? She didn't remember any more. Then, as an afterthought… wasn't it a bit unfair to lean on him like that?

She frowned a little and took a sip of her wine. Richard didn't say anything, his fingers played with her hair, and he waited for her to calm down – he noticed she was still somewhat upset with herself.

When she put down her glass on the small side table next to the sofa and let out a sigh, he said softly "Camille…" "Hmm?" "Remember how you came to visit me in rehab last year?" "Hmm… sure." "You know how I didn't want you to leave but didn't know how to say it?" "Yes…"

Where was he heading? She had no idea. She turned her head and looked at him inquiringly. His eyes met hers and he said "I didn't want you to leave after Christmas, either. I had no idea when we'd see each other again, and it was painful to see you go... And I don't want you to leave this time. But this time, at least we know that we will be together again soon, don't we?"

"Yes, I guess so…" she replied.

"Doesn't that put things into perspective?" he asked. "I mean, it's hard for me, too, you know…"

"Yes," she said softly, "I know. How selfish we get when we are down for some reason… It's silly of me to assume that it's only me who's suffering… I'm sorry."

"Oh, don't say that. You're not feeling okay, and it's okay not to feel okay all the time. Sounds like such a cliché, I know, but the psychologist in rehab was entirely right to point that out to me when I complained about my lack of progress in certain areas in rehab. Of course, we all know that, but it's good to say and realise it every once in a while." He paused.

"You know, Camille, I have… I have wasted a lot of time dithering and waiting for the right moment to come for whatever in my life," he continued thoughtfully after a moment.

"I mean, in Croydon, I always waited for the perfect position to come up elsewhere for applying, my house there was a bit of an interim until the perfect house came up for me to move into, and my life was on hold in so many aspects."

Now it was his turn to sigh, remembering the miserable time he had had at work in Croydon.

He went on "Then I came to Saint Marie, and again… so many things there could have been better in my life if only I had had the courage to tackle them instead of waiting for the right moment to come or thinking they'd sort themselves out. I never told you there how much I appreciated your efforts to make me feel more at home, and I was always late with saying thanks for whatever you, your mother or the team did for me.

He closed his eyes for a moment, opened them again and continued "If I said it at all, that is… I knew I was late, so sometimes I thought I had missed the moment, and I ended up saying nothing at all. And you know how I never told you how much you mean to me. It took an assassination attempt and half a year of recuperation before I finally dared to say something – and it wouldn't have happened if you hadn't come over and made me understand it was now or never… During my time on Saint Marie, I always thought there'd be a better moment to say it, and then it never came – plus, of course, I feared I'd say it all the wrong way and make a horrible mess of it."

Camille was getting puzzled now. He had definitely opened up more with time, but why would he say all that now? What was this long speech about? It seemed like he was trying to buy time and pluck up courage…

She didn't have to wait for much longer to find out. He took her hand, looked down on it and said "I think I have learnt my lesson. I don't want to make the same mistake again and wait for the ultimately perfect moment. It might never come, and if it ever does, I might get the jitters and chicken out. There is no such thing as perfect. So…" He lifted her hand and kissed her fingertips, one by one. Camille felt a tingle running down her spine.

"What I'm trying to say is… Camille, will you… er – do you think you –" He took a deep breath and felt her hand slipping out of his, moving to his face and caressing his cheek. That gave him the nerve to look in her eyes and continue, and he finally came out with it.

"Will you marry me?"

Camille's heart skipped a beat. Yes, she had hoped he'd ask her some time in the future, but she hadn't expected it to happen just now. She had thought he might want to wait a little until they had settled in a routine with all the commuting and the other challenges they might have to face.

A mix of emotions whirled through her – joy, excitement, surprise, happiness, elation...

She moved to sit on his lap, straddling him, her heels right next to his knees. His gaze was apprehensive, and she felt his nervousness. But then he saw her smiling, her eyes shining with joy and happiness, and he let out a small sigh of relief. He had not messed up… needless to say, his experience in these matters was zero, and he was well aware of his talent to say the wrong things sometimes.

She leant over to kiss him, her arms slid around his neck, and just before her lips met his, she whispered "Yes, Richard, absolutely!"

They didn't speak for a while after that… but finally, they needed to break for air, and Richard asked a little breathlessly "Don't you want to see your ring, Camille?"

She raised her eyebrows and asked teasingly "You bought me a ring? But you didn't know I'd say yes?"

"Well… I had – er - reasons to hope you would…"

He shifted a little and fumbled in his pocket to retrieve the little velvet box that had been sitting patiently in his nightstand drawer since the beginning of the year.

She sat back a little when he pulled it out, handing it over to her. She opened the little box. One hand flew to her mouth in a gesture of astonishment, and her lips formed an inaudible "Oh". Incredulously, she looked at the ring, then at him, and whispered "Richard – when did you… Thank you so much, it's beautiful… and of course, you know I love it!"

They had been windowshopping together after New Year's Eve – and among many other places, they had stood in front of a jewelry shop. It hadn't been one of the posh chains or a fancy store with a big name, but a small, independent studio in a side street, away from the glitz and bling that you could find everywhere. Their designs were unusual and exquisite. Their price tags were, too, but given the fact that their jewelry wasn't standard stuff you'd see everywhere, it was well worth it. After all, you'd get one-of-a-kind pieces, no mass-produced generic articles.

She had mentioned how much she liked their work, and when he had asked which items she liked in particular, she had pointed at a few things – necklaces, earrings, an elegant bracelet… and this ring. These particular pieces all had in common that they resembled art deco, but had a modern, individual touch to them that made them clearly unique. She had thought he had only wanted to get an idea of her taste – he had asked about shoes, clothes, kitchenware and other things as well, so the question hadn't really struck her as unusual.

The ring didn't feature a diamond, but a small rectangular emerald, set in gold. It was not what would traditionally be considered an engagement ring, but she didn't need diamonds… She'd much rather have something special and unique than a traditional and generic ring.

Come to think about it, she would also have accepted his proposal if he had presented her a ring that he'd bought at a gumball machine, but well… this certainly was much, much nicer.

For a moment, Richard could enjoy the unusual situation of Camille being totally speechless. Then, she looked up and asked "Did you… when, I mean, how…"

"Right after you had left," he answered. Her eyes widened. He continued, a little nervous again now (maybe he should have spoken up earlier?) "I couldn't possibly ask you back then although I knew I didn't want to let you go… ever… But well… there was no real perspective at that time, and how could I… I mean… it would have been too rash… and I thought you might consider it presumptuous… after all, I had only just said that I – er – on New Year's Eve, so… I went and got it – it just had to wait a little. Now that you are here and we'll be together more often, I thought it's… er… I'd been unsure about when exactly… but it seems to me that now is just right… We both needed a bit of a boost tonight, I think…"

She had to laugh at this way of putting it. But he was right. She had been so disheartened by the prospect of having to leave him so soon again, although rationally, it had been stupid – after all, they'd be together again in a few weeks – not months, like last time! – and she was indeed looking forward to her new job and the challenge it provided… but for some reason, she had fallen into a doom and gloom. It was amazing how he always seemed to know just what she needed. Well, sometimes, he didn't – but he never made the same mistake twice, she thought with a little smile.

He asked shyly "Don't you want to put it on, Camille?" She looked up and said "I'd think it's actually your job to get it on my hand somehow, isn't it?" They both laughed, slightly embarrassed suddenly.

Richard took the ring out of the box, and she gave him her hand so he could slip it on her finger. They both admired it for a moment, then she gave him a suggestive look from under her lashes and said seductively "And how do you feel about celebrating our engagement? Maybe upstairs, hmmm?"

On the next morning, Camille packed her suitcase. She left some of her clothes with Richard – there was no point in dragging them back and forth all the time, and there was enough space in the closets. She'd get more clothes in Paris, and she'd divide them evenly on both places so she could get everything she needed in one piece of hand luggage and wouldn't have to haul a case every time she'd travel.

She had already bought an assortment of toiletries that she had stored away in the bathroom here in London – she'd only need to get an extra bottle of her favourite perfume some time to complete the collection. She'd still carry around her toiletry bag with some standard basics – you never knew, you might get stranded somewhere - but at least it wouldn't be so stuffed any more.

As she zipped the toiletry bag, the box with Humphrey's compass ring almost fell out, and she furrowed her brow when she slipped it back into the bag. She would have to think about what to do with it some time. She didn't want Richard to find it, at the same time she felt bad for hiding it from him. She just feared he'd misunderstand it. She couldn't blame him – Humphrey had indeed behaved in a very odd manner towards her. And while the sentiment behind the ring was appreciated, she could just imagine what Richard might think about it. Why cause him pain and misery when it could be avoided?

She stopped a moment to think. Had she encouraged Humphrey with her general behaviour and goodbye kiss? In hindsight, that kiss maybe had been a bit over-the-top and could have been misunderstood… But he hadn't contacted her throughout the week, so hopefully he had understood that he'd have to let her go for good. She'd send Florence an e-mail some time… as soon as she was a bit more settled in her position.

"Are you making progress?" came Richard's voice from the bedroom. "Yes, yes – I just have to… oh, Richard, could you buy another toothbrush some time? Preferably before I'll come next time? I mean, I'll take this one with me, and when I come next time, it would be so much easier if I could leave all the rubbish like toothbrush and toothpaste and what-not in Paris…"

"Hmm. No worries. I think a toothbrush won't weigh too heavily on my budget. Anything else?"

"Don't think so. But what about me sending you a list via e-mail some time?"

He stuck his head through the door gap and smiled at her. "Alright, ma'am. Just spare me the embarrassment of having to get – er – ladies' hygiene products, okay?"

She said deadpan "Oh, _merde_. And I just wanted to say that I'd need a new box of tampons…"

They reached the train station just in time, and Richard phoned his parents to let them know when they'd arrive. Robert had offered to pick them up at the station in Horsham which would save them a longish walk – not that they would have minded under normal circumstances, but Camille had her suitcase, after all, and that would make the walk a little inconvenient.

As they got comfortable in their seats, Camille looked at her ring with admiration and pride again. She had done that numerous times in the meantime – she still couldn't quite believe that she was suddenly engaged to get married. "Did you tell your parents about your – er – plan to ask me?" she asked curiously.

He gave her a sideways glance. Why she had to discuss this on a crowded train was beyond him, but he answered anyway… "No, I didn't. But they're neither blind nor dumb, so I figure they kind of expect it to happen some time. I'm sure Mum will notice your ring rightaway. With Dad, I'm not so sure – but you never know. He might notice, but perhaps won't say anything." With that, the conversation was finished for him – he didn't think that their engagement was a public subject after all.

Camille, though, had to ask him another question. "Do you think that anybody will make snarky comments?" "Why would anybody do that?" He was completely taken aback by her question. "This is a free country, you can get married to whomever you want, Camille, and as it is, I'd like to get married to you, and fortunately, the feeling is mutual…"

"I know." She rolled her eyes at his little rant. "I just wondered if… well, if they'd get upset at your workplace… or if anybody would make remarks because I'm… French." He looked at her indignantly. "Well, we work for different organisations, so it's none of their business. And if I don't mind that you're French, I don't see why anybody else would bother."

He sighed when he realised that she wasn't finished yet. "What is it, Camille?" He was getting a little impatient now. "And what will people have to say about… well, about… the colour of my skin?"

She asked it with a small voice. It had never ever been an issue for him, she knew that, and it wasn't one for her, either. But she had suddenly remembered how she had sometimes been slighted or looked down upon by people when she had first come to Paris for her training. France had lots of citizens with a migrational background, but that didn't mean everyone was tolerant, and she had heard some really nasty remarks there all those years ago. And while she knew that nobody would care in the international department, she figured that for some people it might still be a thing… and it might be the same here, in the UK… despite all the migrants.

Richard was completely aghast by her question. "Camille!" His voice sounded shocked. She looked down on her hands, a little embarrassed now, and began to fidget with her ring.

He put his hand over hers and said tenderly and almost inaudibly "What should they have to say, other than that you are the most beautiful woman they've ever seen? Come on, Camille, even Britain has arrived in the 21st century, and you're worrying for nothing. I don't see why you suddenly make a mountain out of a little molehill… if there actually even is a molehill at all."

He peeked around, furtively checking if anybody was looking, put his arm around her shoulder and kissed her on the cheek. "I love you, Camille," he whispered in her ear, "and anybody with half a brain can see that I'm the lucky one that you said yes… so, please, stop worrying."

He pulled her closer, and she put her head on his shoulder, suddenly not so anxious any more…


	8. Ready, Steady, Go

Robert was already waiting for them, sitting on a bench on the platform when their train arrived. He greeted them with a big smile – Richard thought his father had never smiled as often over all the years of his life as he had smiled during the past year. Camille had had an unbelievable effect on their family. He was happy that his parents liked her – otherwise, they never might have got together.

He realised that he owed it particularly to his mother that Camille had ever come over to visit them… and so he asked Robert to stop at "Lily's Chocolaterie" and got the biggest available gift basket for Margaret. He figured that his mother would appreciate that more than a set of feathered wings, a bow and arrows.

His dad raised his eyebrows as Richard returned to the car with the impressively wrapped basket and said "Good grief, did you get into a fix and need Mum's help? Do you want her to sew or craft anything for you? Or do you feel guilty for… whatever?" Richard just smiled enigmatically and said "No, no, and no. You'll see!"

Margaret was happy to see them and marvelled at the gift basket when Richard handed it to her in the living room. "What on earth… Richard! What is this about? Have you won the lottery?" She stood there, completely gobsmacked, and looked from her son to Camille and back again. Camille shrugged and said "Don't ask me, I have no idea!" Margaret set the basket on the table and had a closer look at the contents.

Robert came in and said teasingly "He's in a fix and wants you to bail him out – my guess. Or he feels guilty for something. He says it's neither, but…" He was interrupted by an exclamation from his wife. Camille had lifted her hand to fix a strand of hair behind her ear, and Margaret had seen her ring… "Did you… Camille! Is that an engagement ring?" Her voice was shaky, she gasped, and then she clapped her hand over her mouth in amazement.

Richard was a bit embarrassed, but pulled himself together. He still wasn't so keen on emotional outbursts and scenes, but well, his mother was excited, and he could understand… in a way. He cleared his throat, looked over to Camille and then said a little stiffly "Yes, it is – and that's why I brought you chocolate. We have to thank you for inviting Camille over last year – without you, this all wouldn't have happened."

If he had been embarrassed by his mother's exclamation already, the subsequent scene didn't make it any better, Richard thought secretly as he felt his mother embracing him before turning to Camille to hug her and admire the ring. Robert patted Richard's shoulder and said "Well done, Richard…" (as if he had successfully caught a fish!).

But despite his cynicism, he quite enjoyed the attention, and Camille obviously loved it.

Then, the inevitable question came "So, have you set a date already?" Camille and Richard exchanged a glance, then Richard spoke. "No, we haven't. We wanted to – er – wait and see how things pan out with commuting between France and the UK, and depending on what happens, we'll make a decision…"

Camille nodded and said "It would be too much to start a new demanding job and plan a wedding at the same time, so we'll just wait what happens. We can be married and work in different countries, I'm sure that's possible, but before we can make any plans, we'll just have to see how it all goes…"

Margaret and Robert accepted that reply – although it was clear that at least Richard's mother would have liked to go ahead and tackle the 'project' already now. However… they understood – Richard and Camille had already enough going on, they didn't need any extra stress at this point.

Dinner was over, and Camille was sitting in the living room by herself, lost in thought… It had been a fun day, and she mused that she couldn't have wished for a better finale to her stay in England. She was getting a little nervous about Monday now – she had no idea what to expect. But then again, she hadn't had a clear idea of what to expect from this detour to the UK, either, and all had turned out really well. Right, that was an understatement – it had turned out wonderful, and she was overflowing with happiness and gratitude.

She remembered how she had looked into the mirror of the airport restroom in Paris and decided to get a new haircut before braving the unknown... Who would have thought she'd have such an exciting time here in the UK – and be engaged before starting her new job!

She listened to Richard and his mother chatting in the kitchen as he dried the dishes after dinner while Margaret put away pots, pans and bowls, and she had to smile about his friendly and patient attempts to fend off her enthusiasm – she made all sorts of suggestions for the perfect wedding, including a reception at a posh venue. Camille had always known Margaret as pragmatic and level-headed, but the news of the engagement revealed a completely different side of her.

Robert came from behind and sat down in an armchair opposite to Camille. She was on the sofa, her feet were pulled up, and she took a sip from her drink as he cleared his throat and asked unceremoniously "Nervous already?"

Camille looked up and said "About France, you mean? I'm not sure… yes, I guess I'm nervous, but then again, I'm not, if you can follow me. I was more nervous when I left Saint Marie. I had absolutely no clue about what would happen then, and now I have already a bit of an idea, so… "

"That's not always a good thing," Robert said thoughtfully.

Camille laughed and said "Yes, that's right – certainty isn't always necessarily a positive thing! But I'm optmistic about the whole thing. I mean, the job will be totally different from what I've ever done before… and when I applied, I was under the impression it would be covert policing – which it isn't, after all. I'll do teaching, mostly, but besides that, there'll be administrative and organisational work – also for the training in undercover work, so there is a connection, albeit a somewhat far-fetched one."

She laughed again and then explained "I don't care much for the admin part, but organising projects will be lots of fun, and I'll learn something new. I can see now why they used the covert policing pretext – they wanted me for the international department, but I probably wouldn't have considered a teaching job. At the end of the day, nothing is set in stone, though, and I've never avoided accepting a challenge in my life."

Robert smiled and said "I can well believe that. It's a good thing that women can have their own careers these days. At least they have a choice. And employers are more supportive of families nowadays, I think. It still can be challenging, but at least many of them come up with benefits like organised childcare and such. And going part time is easier, too. It was much harder back when we were young. Margaret had to give up her work fairly soon after we got married because we had to move due to my work, and it was simply expected of spouses back then to tag along. Fortunately, finding a house never was an issue – we got help from my employer there. Then Richard came along, and Margaret was happy to stay at home… when he was six, we moved again, and it was clear that we'd move again after two or three years… So, that's how we ended up putting him into boarding school…" He sounded a little regretful.

Camille waited, and he continued "Margaret never had any issues with getting settled in new places, and she found things to do, people to meet, and hobbies to tend to. Mostly it was stuff that she could do by herself as well as with others – like sewing, or quilting or whatever you call all those handicrafts. When we moved, she just found a new quilting group, you know. And Richard was in boarding school – he had a stable environment, and I thought he had his friends there. I had no idea that he hated it. He never let on how much he suffered. Well, not constantly, but overall, I know now that he wasn't happy."

He sighed and said "But I didn't know back then. We were strangers… in hindsight, I can see that. I thought we'd spend more time together later on when he's grown up. And before I knew it, he had indeed grown up, gone to university, joined the police… and we hardly ever saw him any more. Margaret seemed to take it well, and I always thought she's happy, but when Richard was assigned to Saint Marie, she cried and said that now he's gone for good…"

He blinked, and Camille noticed that he had the habit of "staring into nothingness" in emotionally 'difficult situations' – just like his son.

He laughed a bit abruptly and said "I don't know why I'm telling you all this, but well…"

Camille said softly "It's okay, Robert. Don't worry too much. As it is, Richard felt inadequate for a long, long time and thought you'd believe him to be a loser. But he doesn't see it that way any more. I think it was mainly a matter of miscommunication, and I'm just glad you got this sorted out before it's too late. You did what you thought was right at the time, and I think he understands that now. Let's just be grateful that you can enjoy being together now – and leave the past behind. I mean, it's always there, isn't it, but it doesn't have to define you and your relationship with Richard."

"You're very wise…" Robert smiled faintly.

"Oh, I'm not. It's something that Richard and I have worked out together. I've had my share of grief as well over the years, and I've often felt rejected and hurt… I liked to think of myself as 'steeled' because of all these experiences, but well… the truth is that we all carry our past inside, and we must make peace with it – instead of just ignoring it. Or dwelling on it constantly – you know, to heal a wound you need to stop touching it – obviously most of us like to wallow in self pity for a while, but it's vital not to get stuck on that level, but move beyond. I think that once we've acknowledged that our past is a part of us – a part that we cannot change, but that we can learn from… without giving it too much power… - then we can move on and enjoy the present again. Sounds a bit new age-y, doesn't it, but well, maybe you know what I'm trying to say…"

Robert nodded, but before he could say anything else, Margaret entered the room, laughing about something that Richard had said, and the conversation was over. They went on to play a few board games, and their little tête-à-tête was never mentioned again. But Camille felt that Robert was relieved that he had talked to her. It had obviously bothered him for a while already that his son's girlfriend might think badly of him. And it made her happy that he felt comfortable to talk to her about these things. Considering how reserved he usually was when it came to emotions and expressing them, this was a big compliment.

When Robert and Margaret retired, Richard and Camille stayed on for a little while – they hadn't finished their wine yet. Richard sat on the sofa, and Camille stretched out, her head was in his lap, and she looked up to him.

It was semi-dark in the room, so she couldn't see his face, but she felt the slight melancholy as he stroked her hair and said nothing.

She waited. Finally he spoke… "Strange to think that you'll be gone tomorrow," he said pensively.

"Yes, I know," she said. Then she added "They've booked me into a hotel, so at least I know where I'll be going. And I'll be on the move, on Monday I'll have to show up and meet Leblanc and Dubois, and there will be meetings and talks and what-not… plus I'll move into that interim flat… that will make it easier for me as I won't have the time to think too much. By the same token, you'll have your everyday routines and all that… but please, Richard, try not to worry too much. It'll be okay. And we'll manage. We've managed for so long, compared to what we've gone through already, this is a walk in the park. Come on, weren't you the one yesterday who said we'd pull it through?"

He laughed softly and said "You're right. And when I saw that you needed some cheering up, I came up with the ring – I don't have anything up my sleeve like that tonight, I'm afraid…"

She sat up and put her arms around his neck – fortunately, his glass was empty and securely placed on the table already. Just before she kissed him, she whispered "You might want to try and cheer me up in another way… in the guest room, I mean… and then you can recover from all the stress later on when I'm gone…"

When they got ready to go upstairs, he took her in his arms once again and said softly "Mind you, Camille – it might be a good thing that you'll swan off to Paris tomorrow… it's getting a little challenging to keep up with you, you know!"

She grinned and retorted "Are you complaining now?" He shook his head and nuzzled her neck. His voice made a tingle run down her spine when he whispered in her ear "Certainly not… I've missed you over that past half year, you know!" "Same here," she said softly.

With that, they made their way upstairs into the guest room. They had one more night.

On the next morning, they had a nice extended breakfast. Margaret had calmed down a little, and Camille was secretly relieved. She didn't really want to discuss wedding traditions and ceremonies at this point. It was way too early, anyway. She wanted to get settled in her job and in her new place in France first, and then they could perhaps start to think about what they wanted. She knew that Maman would be happy for her, and she hoped she'd let her find her own way in regard to how, where and when she'd get married.

Catherine had got married in the Caribbean, her parents had been far, far away, and although it had seemed to be the right thing to do at the time, she had sometimes mentioned that she regretted not having had her parents around for the ceremony.

"Maybe they'd have accepted him more if they had known him better," she had said sometimes, and "maybe we'd have had more of a relationship, and you'd have had real grandparents…" Camille knew that this was the one big regret in Catherine's life – that she had alienated herself from her parents and that she – Camille – had never met her grandparents due to all that.

"Oh well, we'll see…" she said to herself when she had reached that point in her musings.

Before she knew it, it was time to get into the car and drive off to the airport. "You've got everything, Camille?" Richard asked once more when they buckled up and were about to leave the driveway. Margaret – who was sitting in the front – turned around and counted out "Passport, tickets, mobile phone, dossier for your workplace, toiletries, vouchers for hotel? Most importantly: Engagement ring? If you have all that, you'll survive. If you have forgotten anything, it will wait for you to come and pick it up next time, and you can always buy a substitute in France, so… "

Camille confirmed that she was all set, and they left.

Richard held her hand all the way to the airport, and she looked at him from time to time, wondering what he might think. They didn't speak much, though. At the airport, everything went very swiftly. There wasn't much of a queue for check-in, and they reached passport control quickly.

It was time for goodbye once again… her heart sank. Robert and Margaret hugged her briefly, then Richard took her in his arms and kissed her one last time. It was a long, sweet and tender kiss, and her lips were melting under his… then he pulled away, caressed her cheek and said encouragingly, "All will be well, Camille! Have a good start, and we'll be together again soon…"

She nodded, felt how the tears welled up in her eyes, and whispered "Thank you, Richard. I love you…"

With that, she turned around and went through passport control.

This time, she couldn't look back – she didn't want him to see the tears - but when she was inside the hall and turned around, she saw him standing there, waving, and his mouth formed the words "I love you"…

Her eyes lit up, and now she smiled and nodded enthusiastically. Her curls bobbed, then she formed the "Victory" sign with her right hand, and he laughed.

Suddenly she knew: They'd manage.

Hey, they were engaged, she'd see him again really soon, and she had an adventure to look forward to – life was good!


End file.
